CHARLES FOX.
I shuffled forward, my legs heavy, my breath shallow. Nothing about this place was familiar—the trees towered above me, their twisted branches clawing at the sky, casting long shadows in the moonlight. I was weak and exhausted, and the more I moved, the more disoriented I became. But then I saw her—a figure bathed in the moon's silver glow.
"Hello?" My voice came out strained, barely audible, but it echoed in the eerie stillness. "Where are we?"
Silence. Not even the wind stirred the leaves. I squinted, struggling to focus through the haze of fatigue. I could make out her shape with a few more steps, and my heart lurched.
“Ruby?” Relief flooded me. It was her—she was standing there, just a few feet away. I tried to smile, but something was wrong. I could feel it. "Ruby, i
